The Hollow Man
by JestersTear
Summary: Written in response to The Hollow Man Challenge on WIKTT. Following the end of the war and the disappearance of Dumbledore, Severus is sentenced as a Death Eater to having his soul removed and awarded to Hermione as house help. She has other ideas.
1. Prelude: Contemplations

**The Hollow Man**

**Written in response to my own "The Hollow Man" Challenge on WIKTT.**

**Prelude - Contemplations**

_Drip, drip, drip_, it went, on and on until he could no longer even hear his own thoughts. The sound that had seemed soft at first now reverberated in the stone walls, augmented a thousand fold with each _drip_. Or maybe that was simply him giving into madness.

He had lost count of how much time had gone by since he had been brought into this cell, couldn't tell if it had been weeks or months, but it was hardly important. The events of the Final Battle, however, would be forever etched in his memory. Hogwarts. They had managed to turn _Hogwarts_ of all places, into a battleground. Bastards. They had had every intention of getting to the famous Boy Who Lived, regardless of who they killed in the process, be it the child of friend or foe. It would have turned into a bloodbath had he not known beforehand. The students had been evacuated overnight, faster than he had thought possible. Of course, a few of them had managed to sneak back, for better or for worse. 

Draco Malfoy. 

Harry Potter. 

Hermione Granger. 

Ronald Weasley. 

And, surprisingly, Neville Longbottom. 

Even more surprising was the fact that they were all on the same side, the Granger girl and the Weasley boy out of their blasted Gryffindor nobility and Draco, Potter and Longbottom united by the same common goal: revenge. Potter's motives were the same as they always had been, of course, and Longbottom's weren't much different; both of the boys' parents had been taken away from them, and they intended to do the impossible to avenge that. Draco, on the other hand, wanted nothing more than to watch his own father die at his hands, as repayment for the murder of his mother. A most unlikely alliance had been forged that night.

It had been a harsh battle, with countless lost lives on both sides. He could distinctly remember having closed Sybil Trelawney's eyes as she lay in a pool of her own blood, having fought as valiantly as anyone else, and his shock as he realised for the first time that, despite her many faults, she had been a good woman. He remembered McNair, his death eater mask now torn yet still hanging from his neck, as he fell to the ground. The man had been about to cast an Unforgivable at Potter's unguarded back, when Draco himself had struck him down. He remembered Bellatrix Lestrange, surprise still evident in her eyes at the fact that it had been Neville Longbottom's curse to finally stop her. And he remembered Hermione Granger's voice as she shouted a curse over his shoulder, effectively disabling a nameless Death Eater who had been aiming at him. He remembered having hated her for that, for having snatched from him the chance to simply die and get it over with once and for all.

Everyone had been rejoicing in the afterglow of victory when they realised Albus Dumbledore was not among them. Nor was he among the corpses. He was simply not there, and the last time anyone could remember having seen him was in a fierce duel with Tom Riddle, although that was long before Potter had finally got there. Fudge had, of course, taken full advantage of that fact, and had had him arrested as a Death Eater and a spy. Not a favourable testimony had been able to save him, only Albus' could have. Of all the members of the Order, Kingsley Shacklebolt had been the only one not to testify in his favour, but even that behaviour had been explained as he realised the man was still spying on the Ministry. He had come to visit him once, under the guise of interrogating him further, and let him know in no uncertain terms that he thought him to be innocent and honourable.

He begged to differ.

He had not been innocent since the age of 10, and would definitely not deem himself honourable. He only wished they would sentence him to death now that his job was done; the world had no more to offer him than it had when Voldemort had lived, and he was no longer needed now. Death was something he deserved, not only for what he had done as a true Death Eater, but for what he had been forced to do in his role as a spy. He almost got his wish.

Almost.

For the Wizengamot had decided he would have the dubious honour of being the first human subject in a new procedure the Ministry had developed. Something they had begun developing two and a half years ago, when the Dementors had turned to Voldemort: the Hollowing.

It had been explained to him that his soul was to be stripped from him, as if he had been Kissed. It had been explained to him that he would then be bound to, at the beck and call of one of the victims. He did not know who his new master would be, but he knew his fate would not be pleasant. At least he had the consolation of knowing he would not feel anything, regardless of the magnitude of his abasement.

He should have known death was too good for him.

So now here he sat, being driven half mad by the insistent _drip, drip, drip_, and he could only wish the time would go by quicker.

For, in a few hours, Severus Snape would cease to be.

------------------

**Author's Note: **This is the extremely late (today is the deadline) to my own challenge at WIKTT, The Hollow Man. Feel free to point out any mistakes I make, since I am not a native speaker and have no beta. Please Review!

This Challenge's name was lifted from Marillion's outstanding song, The Hollow Man.

----

**The Hollow Man**

I think I have become one of the hollow men 

As I shine on the outside more these days

I can feel the outside feeding on my inside

Leaves a growing darkness in its place 

I think I have become one of the hollow men 

I think I have become one of the lonely 

Now that everybody talks to me 

I feel I have become one of the empty 

Hollow men can stop you with the twinkling of an eye 

Hollow men can take you without even reaching out

Hollow men have got you long before you realise 

The poison paralyses 

I think I have become one of a pair of men 

It's a feeling I've been having for some time

I look down upon myself and watch my movements 

A blind eye sees the fragile vandalised 

Watch this cold world dishing up these endless hollow men

Find us anywhere you look 

Come and meet our friends

Stand us in our silly clothes 

Put our batteries in 

Line us up like fairground ducks 

Watch us grin and grin

See the lies behind our eyes 

See the will to win 

We'll buy you and we'll sell you

But perhaps we'll save your skin

Sit quietly and listen to the breeze

The hollow and the lonely listen too

Sniff the air for something we can use 

We're tin-hard and we rattle when we're shaken

**----**

**More can be found at www.marillion.com. Once again, please review!**


	2. Chapter One: Sacrifices

**The Hollow Man**

**Chapter One - Sacrifices**

The cup she had been about to drink from fell to the ground and shattered, spilling its contents all over her kitchen floor, while she stared in shock at the letter she had just received.

_Compensation_. They were offering her _compensation_ for her loss. As if anything could possibly _compensate_ her for the murder of her parents, almost a year ago. And such _compensation_ was being offered in the form of Death Eater scum, no less, as if having a soulless monster around her house as a constant reminder would alleviate her of anything. How could they? How dared they?

The letter informed her that she was third on the list, so she could have her pick out of a number of Death Eaters. The two names who had priority over her were the Diggorys and Harry, for their losses had happened before hers. The Diggorys had chosen Pettigrew, while Harry had thankfully declined.

White-hot rage shot through her. Those bastards had killed her parents, they had tortured and killed her parents, and those idiots at the Ministry thought they could _compensate_ her.

She started reading random names aloud, in a mock sing-song voice, trying to vent some of her anger.

Rudolphus Lestrange. Percy Weasley. Gregory Goyle. Vincent Crabbe. Marcus Flint. Severus Snape. Theodore Nott. Wait! Had she just read _Severus Snape_? _That_ was what they had sentenced him to? She could feel bile rising in her throat, and barely made it to the bathroom on time before promptly throwing up.

The man had been a hero, he had probably saved them all through his years of spying. The information of the attack alone should have been more than enough to grant him a bloody Order of Merlin, First Class, not to mention everything he had no doubt endured over the years in his service to Voldemort, all for the benefit of the Order.

And that was how their brave new world repaid him. By rendering him soulless and delivering him to the tender care of someone who didn't know better. Who thought he was a Death Eater and Lord Voldemort's spy, and who had a good chance of having been his student to boot. His humilliation would be endless. Cornelius Fudge had made certain he'd be mistreated until the end.

And it wasn't even a crime.

According to the law, anyone subjected to the Hollowing ceased to have human rights and was to be treated as an object; if she were to kill her neighbour's Hollow One, for example, she would be legally forced to pay them an appropriate sum of money rather than being tried for murder. If she killed her own Hollow One, no charges whatsoever would be brought against her. Why, it would be no worse in the eyes of the law than the cup she had just broken. It was hers to do as she pleased. Crookshanks and Hedwig had more rights than a Hollow One, even Lucky, her pet Fwooper, had more rights than a Hollow One.

And they had turned Severus Snape into that.

She had never quite liked him but, ever since she had understood exactly what it was he went through, after seeing him get to Grimmauld Place in the summer before her sixth year, bloodied and bruised, more dead than alive after a meeting, she resoected him immensely. The Ministry had no right to have ever pressed charges against him, let alone convict him.

Tears came to her eyes unbidden. All of the Order's efforts to acquit him had been in vain, she had known as much, but she had expected him to be sentenced to Azkaban which, now that it was no longer populated by Dementors, wouldn't have been an unbearable fate. She had heard Minerva and Molly discussing that, once the Ministry changed hands, it would be a simple matter to get his case re-evaluated. Now that was no longer an option. Severus Snape was lost to them, convicted for having been a self-sacrificing martyr for the cause. The irony knocked her out.

Then it dawned on her. She could choose him. She couldn't bring back her parents and she couldn't save him, but she could choose him and at least spare him whatever humilliation he was bound to endure elsewhere. It was the one half-decent thing that could come out of this entire mess.

Resolutely she picked herself up from the floor and washed her face and teeth, then flooed the Ministry's War Crimes Division to make arrangements.

Hermione Granger had a _compensation_ to pick up the following day.

---

The day had been tiring to the extreme. She had asked for leave from the lab the following day in order to be able to pick up Severus Snape and, being a compulsive perfeccionist, she had worked twice as much as usual so that her absence wouldn't be a problem. Now she was sitting on her sofa in front of the fireplace, wondering if she had made the right decision. Reminding herself, yet again, that she had no idea what living daily with a Hollow One would be like.

Her musings were interrupted by a familiar bespectacled face showing up in her fireplace.

"Hermione?"

"Harry! How good of you to call!" Her face brightened considerably at the sight of one of her best friends.

"I was wondering if I could pop by. Were you doing anything?"

"No, not at all. Here, I'll take down the wards for you."

In a few seconds Harry Potter had vanished from her fireplace and apparated with a sound _pop_ into her living room.

"You looked cranky when I called. Is something the matter?"

"No. Yes. I don't know."

"You don't know? Those are words that I would never have expected to hear from Hermione Granger," he joked. "I think I'll put this memory in a pensieve and charge viewing rights. I'll be the richest wizard alive in no time."

Hermione laughed, easing some of the tension she felt.

"It's just that I got a letter from the Ministry this morning..."

"Oh, _that_." Harry's expression closed and he sat down. "I got one too. Can you _believe_ what they're trying to do? As if it would do me a world of good to have, say, Bellatrix Lestrange walking around soulless in my house. As if it would bring me back Sirius. It's a freak show, that's what it is. And the Diggorys accepted it, I could barely believe it." He shook his head in disgust.

"Harry... I accepted it too..."


	3. Chapter Two: Theory vs Reality

**The Hollow Man**

**Chapter Two – Theory versus Reality**

"You _what_?" Harry almost shrieked, his mouth agape. "Hermione, how could you? Can't you see what they're turning you into? You think you'll be any better than a Death Eater if you just start torturing them around? Don't even try to interrupt me, I know it says 'House Help' in the letter, but we both know that's not going to happen, don't we? You wouldn't even take a house-elf, but you'll take a Death Eater? What has this war done to you, Hermione? Don't you know it won't bring your parents back?"

He paused for breath and Hermione was finally able to speak.

"It's not like that, Harry. I asked for Snape."

Harry looked at her for a minute longer and then understanding settled on his features. His voice was softer, sadder when he spoke to her again."

"So that's what it is, eh? First Crookshanks, then house-elfs, Lucky, and now Snape. You can't save everybody, Hermione. Snape isn't a pet or an oppressed creature, he's... he's no one at this point. Nothing lives in there. Do you really think your sacrifice will make any difference? He's not there to appreciate it, Hermione. Even if he were, I don't think he would even thank you."

"It doesn't matter that he isn't aware of it. _I_ am aware of it, and I don't think I could live with myself if I let someone else take him, someone who'd hurt him. Because you're right, Harry, it doesn't matter what they're going to classify it as, torture it will be."

"Do you think he'd return the favour? That he would sacrifice his comfort and peace of mind to keep _your_ hollow shell from being mistreated?"

"I don't know. Probably not. He would call it foolish to attempt to save a Hollow One, Gryffindor stupidity. But he did many other things, Harry, he saved us in many other ways, too many times, with nothing so much as a 'thank you'. If this is all I can do, than this is what I'll do."

"There's no talking you out of anything, is there?" he asked with a sigh. "OK, then, Ron and I will help you, you know that, don't you? Just don't ask me to change his diapers if he can't control his bladder."

That last comment had the desired effect and Hermione burst out laughing at the sheer absurdity of it all. They eased into conversation after that and, a short 30 minutes later, were apparating to the Burrow for a late-night snack with Ron.

---

The day had dawned grey, as if foretelling her dreadful task. Hermione turned and opened her eyes to find herself in unfamiliar surroundings. Oh, of course. Ginny's bedroom. They had ended up staying at the Burrow the previous night.

She took a quick shower and got ready for the day, having just only kissed Molly Weasley goodbye when Harry caught up with her. Ron had already left for practice.

"Hermione, wait. Are you going to pick him up now?"

"Yes, I scheduled it for 9h30."

"I'll apparate with you. I have to start arriving on time now that I've been promoted, you know, let them know that I'm not just some lazy bum who got there on account of fame alone."

Harry was an Auror now, and Fudge had made a grand show of promoting him to Head of Ministry Security only eight months after he had started working there. There were, of course, plenty of Aurors with more field experience than Harry, Aurors who had not been pleased to see a mere boy take over such a coveted position, and Harry was determined to prove to them that he was right for the job. Hermione privately thought that having a responsibility that did not involved killing another or being killed, as had been the case with Voldemort, could only be good for him.

Together they apparated.

---

"Name?"

"Hermione Jane Granger."

"Wand, please."

Hermione extended the proffered want and followed the man underground, to the one apparition point in Britain that allowed one to get to Azkaban.

The damp, stale smell of despair assaulted her the minute she arrived. She could only fathom it was because a good percentage of the prisoners knew they were being scheduled for the Hollowing.

"You are here for one former Severus Snape, is that correct?"

Hermione schooled her features to neutrality before answering "yes".

"If you would wait here, Miss, it will be brought to you shortly."

She had to suppress a shudder at the man's choice of wording. _It_. _It_ would be brought to her. As if Snape were no longer even a man. Which, she surmised with some fairness, was probably true. How could one deem person a creature without a soul? The sound of approaching footsteps shook her from her reverie. She felt grateful for the darkened halls that would hide a reaction she was certain she would not be able to refrain. Still, nothing could have prepared her for the sight that greeted her.

The former Potions Mater was impossibly thinner, almost skeletal. His once yellowish complexion was now ashen, making the blue bruise on the left side of his face stand out even more. And his eyes... she had never seen emptier eyes, not even in one under the influence of either _Veritaserum_ or _Imperio_. She could remember Severus Snape's eyes as ice cold on a number of occasions, yes, but never expressionless. Never dead, without any glimmer of emotion, be it anger or malice, it didn't matter.

The eyes truly were the windows of the soul. And his was dead.

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Apologies for the short chapter, I have more already written (though not typed) but this was the place to stop.


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